Wasting Away in Chemoville

Please sing the title to the tune of 'Wasting Away in Margaritaville'.

The day for my first chemotherapy treatment sped closer and closer. My feeling of mounting dread can be best described as someone being dragged to the electric chair. Instead of a jolt of electricity, I was to be given a lethal dose.

People kept giving me helpful suggestions:
· Fight with all of your might.
· You have to go with the chemo for it to work.
· Positive thinking will heal you.

I found this sort of cant irritating. What about the others who died? Didn’t they fight? Were they negative? The power of prayer is really not a proven power except in the minds of believers. The chemo either is successful or the cancer comes back in situ or worse. It is a crap shoot.

J and Alison accompanied me on the first chemo treatment. So did Pepsi my husband. I got dressed to the absolute nines as armour. It was just a gruesome and surreal as I anticipated.

I arrived in the area called ‘daycare’ and waited for my chemo nurse. Quite a number of people were seated in chairs that looked much like old fashioned beautician chairs. Instead of a hair dryer, there was the machine that dispensed the chemo.I voted to lie on the bed instead of sitting up for fear I would fall over.



My veins weren't too thrilled either.As soon as they tried to get a needle into my arm, the vein would roll away. The nurse struggled and found a vein in my left arm. The right arm cannot be used for blood pressure, blood tests or even heavy lifting because of the removal of the sentinel node gland for fear of triggering the dreaded and permanent condition of lymphadema…fluid fills your arm and it blows up like a baloney.

The nurse explained that there were two drugs..a and c…I don’t know the names…I refused to learn…I will not become medicalized. Much checking takes place. I had to verify the name on the bags of poison and mine were the same.

The nurse held the orange bag aloft and dramatically announced…this is what will make your hair fall out. Not to be outdone by Nurse Sensitivity's drama I burst into tears. Truthfully, it was not the hair loss….it was the fact I had to allow this gross orange poison flood my system.



The people in the ward are mainly seniors in the plus 70 age range. Cancer is mainly an older person disease. I saw many topsy turvey wigs and rather lost looking people. Some were so ill it was painful to see them.



That brings me to the energy at the Cancer Institute. When J. and I went for one of my first appointments were were waiting in the 'Sunshine Cafe.' I felt a wall, a miasma of terror, angst, dispair surrounding me. Yeah, I was upset but not like that. I looked at J. and saw that her eyes were widely dilated. I asked, 'Can you feel that?' She said, 'You must never come here along.'



Time dripped by as the chemo was infused into my body. Takes about 2 hours. I made it through the first chemo thanks to my husband Pepsi, my friend Alison, and my beloved mini medical pitbull J. She helped pass the time by conducting a puppet show at the foot of my bed. Sexually suggestive, naturally.

Only three more to go.